


Model Behavior

by NotMyBestIdea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Dork Derek Hale, Dork Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Meet-Cute, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 12:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16933101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotMyBestIdea/pseuds/NotMyBestIdea
Summary: Based on this prompt from the dailyau tumblr: “We live next door to each other and I can see you through the window while you’re dancing to your iPod in your flannel pajamas and disheveled hair and God you’re a dork” AU





	Model Behavior

Stiles was living next door to a model.

Well, his dad was living next door to a model, and since Stiles was -  _temporarily_ \- living with his dad that meant Stiles was too.

Not that Stiles knew for sure the guy was a model, but the evidence was there. Objectively good looking (insanely attractive, excuse you, Scott), and he probably held the patent on Grumpy Model Face. Styled hair - that one was iffy, Stiles had to admit, but the dude also obviously did his eyebrows and groomed his scruff, so that was tentatively added to the list. Model Guy was also in awesome shape. His abs had definition - and that definition was physically fit (note to self, tell Scott that one later). Model Guy worked out like, all the time - morning runs (usually shirtless, thank you California weather), push-ups, pull-ups, lifting weights - not that Stiles was creeping on his workout. Stiles had just happened to notice Model Guy through his window. It was a picture window, how could he not notice the buff half-naked man with sweat glistening everywhere?

All right, it was maybe a little stalkery. Stiles was a bad person and he felt bad (not bad enough to stop).

Anyway, none of that was conclusive, and the arguments against the possibility - why would a model live in Beacon Hills, of all places? - were pretty strong, but Stiles held on to his theory. He obviously had no chance with a model, but he was allowed to enjoy the view, right? And until Stiles found pictures of him online (he still hadn’t, another argument against the model theory, according to Scott), viewing him in person would have to do. Oh, the hardship.

~

Stiles stumbled down to the kitchen and over to the coffee pot. It was half full with lukewarm coffee from his dad’s earlier start to his day. Stiles poured some into a mug and dumped the rest to make a fresh pot. While it brewed, he leaned against the counter and stared at nothing out the window, drinking his rapidly cooling coffee and grimacing at the taste.

As the caffeine starting waking him up, he began to notice what he was staring at. 

Model Guy’s house.

Obviously Stiles knew Model Guy’s house was there. He was familiar with the house - it used to belong to the Culpeppers. They had babysat him often when he was a kid. Mrs. Culpepper had loved sunshine and the outdoors and almost every room had giant windows, one of which was now giving Stiles an unimpeded look into the kitchen. (Thank god the bedroom was on the other side of the house and Stiles didn’t have to resist that temptation.)

As he watched, the light went on and Model Guy walked in, yawning and scrubbing a hand through his hair. He was wearing flannel sleep pants and nothing else and Stiles absolutely did not drool at the sight.

Model Guy - he was going to have to find out the guy’s name - pulled a glass out of a cupboard and a carton out of the fridge. He poured a glass of juice, then stood there sipping it while he scrolled through his iPod, which was docked on the counter. He must have found something he liked, because he began bobbing his head and there was a skip in his step as he took his juice over to the kitchen table. Then he bopped his way back to the counter, stopping to spin in the middle of the floor. He put bread in the toaster, his hips swaying, then broke into a full body flail, his arms in the air and his legs propelling him around and around as he bounced up and down. It. Was. Adorkable. 

“Oh, no,” Stiles groaned. Model Guy was out of his league, completely unapproachable, to be admired from afar. Dorky Guy who danced in his kitchen while waiting for his toast… well, Stiles didn’t know how to stop himself from thinking he might have a chance.

Model Guy stopped abruptly, panting a little from the exertion. He was facing the window, facing  _Stiles_ , and the heavens literally parted and aimed a sunbeam directly through Stiles’ window, illuminating him like a fucking spotlight. Model Guy’s eyes widened.

Stiles froze, then averted his gaze and took a hasty drink of coffee, only to spit it out again, all over himself. Stone cold and disgusting. He put the mug in the sink and raced up the stairs, stripping off his shirt as he went. 

He would have to move, there was nothing else to be done. There had been that offer from Raleigh PD that wasn’t half bad. North Carolina should be far enough away. His dad would understand.

Stiles let himself freak out for little while longer, then put on a clean shirt. Moving would have to wait; he still had to go to work. Hopefully he could slink away without Model Guy noticing. He could go over to Scott’s after his shift - they both needed quality bro time. A few days of that, and Model Guy would probably forget he’d caught Stiles staring at him like a creeper.

Ugh, probably not. North Carolina was looking more and more attractive. Maybe there was some sort of police officer exchange program? Australia was nice and remote.

Stiles poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and prepared to leave. He was reaching for the doorknob when someone knocked.

It was Model Guy, Stiles knew it. Because that was his life. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

It was indeed Model Guy, unfortunately - or fortunately for Stiles self-control - wearing a shirt - a flannel pajama shirt that matched his pants.

“Um,” Model Guy said.

“Hi,” Stiles squeaked. Model Guy was even better looking up close, and those eyes… It was over; Stiles was done. No one else would ever measure up to this man whose name he didn’t even know.

“Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Stiles said. “I mean, yes. I’m on my way to work.” He actually wasn’t running late this morning…yet. “But I have a few minutes.”

Model Guy nodded. “I saw you. Earlier. In the window.” 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to-” Stiles waved his hand vaguely. 

“That’s okay.” Model Guy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ve seen you, I mean… I’ve noticed you around. You’re Sheriff Stilinski’s son?”

“Yeah. Yes. That’s me. Stiles. Stilinski.” All he needed to do now to look like a total idiot was dribble coffee down his front - oh, wait, he’d already done that. The Total Idiot checklist was complete.

“I’m Derek Hale.” Derek - so much better than Model Guy - smiled and Stiles went weak in the knees.

“How are you so perfect?” Stiles blurted. The tips of Derek’s ears went pink. “I mean, yeah, you’re hot, but you’re also fucking adorable.”

“Thank you?” Derek’s cheeks reddened to match his ears.

“Oh my god, don’t thank me. I can’t believe I said that.”

“Do you want to have dinner with me?”

Stiles’ mouth opened and closed several times, but nothing came out. 

“I-” Derek began.

“You want to have dinner with me, even after all this?” Stiles flailed his hand around, indicating himself and his creeper tendencies and his awkwardness. Basically, his whole life.

Derek nodded. “I mean, you always look so put together, but this morning…” He shrugged.

Wait. Had Derek been intimidated by him? How was this a world in which that was possible? 

Holy fuck, they were both dorks. Dorks that managed to fool other people into thinking they were cool. Maybe they were perfect for each other.

“I would love to have dinner with you,” Stiles said before Derek could change his mind. He pulled out his phone. “Here, give me your number. I’ll call. Text. Something. On my break.”

Derek did as he was asked and handed the phone back.

Stiles glanced at the screen. “Holy shit, is that the time?” He slipped out of the house, closing the door behind him. “I really have to get going.”

Derek nodded quickly. “Of course. I’ll talk to you later.” He took a few steps back and almost stumbled down the porch steps. “I’ll, uh, go. Home. Bye.”

“Bye.” Stiles watched Derek walk to his front door - the view was amazing, as always - then raced to his Jeep. As he drove down the street, he wondered if Derek really was a model - it was still a possibility, even if Derek was a secret dork. Stiles didn’t really care, he just hoped he’d get the chance to dance with Derek in his kitchen. Maybe after installing some curtains.


End file.
